The Long Night Box Set

by Kevin Partner

  These words poured out of her as Solly listened. It was as if the silent figure leaning against the concrete roadside had given her permission to finally speak.

  "He was nice enough to begin with, and I liked the idea of being around someone strong, but he started doing things that frightened me, so I tried to get away. They followed me into that medical center. And then you rescued me."

  She leaned into him and he put his arms gently around her. "It hasn't exactly been plain sailing since then, has it?"

  "No, but you've saved me twice, Sol, and I won't ever be able to repay you."

  "I'm sure you'll find a way," he said, instantly regretting his clumsy words as she jerked back. "No! I didn't mean like that. I meant that I need help just as much as you. I'm so glad you and Ross came with me."

  She relaxed again. "Me too. We need to watch him," she said, nodding toward where Ross was rummaging around in the car. "I thought he was like the rest of them to begin with, but he was never cruel. Seemed to me he was trying to fit in. But he's all bottled up with anger, Solly. Someday, that's going to come out."

  With a final glance at the slumped figure on the tarmac, Solly led her back to the car. It was an old Ford that was just as grimy on the inside as it was on the outside. It smelled of oil and cigarettes and Ross had found next to nothing of any use except for a dog-eared road map that he sat on his lap. Solly was surprised that the car started on the first turn of the key. The gas tank was half full, and he could see a clear path through the vehicles on the road ahead. He wound the window down and breathed in the fresh air that blew along the road out of the south. Things were finally looking up.

  "Let's get a bit further along, then find somewhere to park up for the night," he said as he put the car into first and gently pulled away.

  The light had almost entirely departed when they left 78 just south of the Watchung Reservation. Solly was cursing himself for not stopping sooner: they were the only thing moving along the road, their headlamps like a beacon to any troublemakers. They reached a point where they could go no further as a clutch of cars had blocked the road. Luckily, there was a slip road just ahead of the blockage and Janice spotted a small residential development to one side of the highway, so he switched off the lights and slowed to crawling pace for the final few hundred yards.

  A waning moon cast flickering light from behind racing clouds as they cruised along the quiet street. Wooden houses clad with white lay along short driveways on either side as they went. There was no sign of any movement until, quite suddenly, two figures stepped into the road waving shotguns.

  Solly stopped and wrapped his hand around his pistol as a bearded face appeared at the window and looked from one to the other of them.

  "Where are you planning on going?" he said. He spoke with the calm assurance of a professional man making polite enquiries of passing strangers.

  Janice leaned across from the passenger seat. "We're traveling south," she said. "We're just looking for somewhere to sleep tonight and we'll be off in the morning."

  Again, the man looked at each of them in turn as if evaluating them. "What did you do before the fall?"

  This had been the last thing he'd expected to hear and Solly was momentarily struck dumb.

  "I was a waitress," Janice said.

  "I was a back-end developer," he said. "Seems like another world."

  The bearded man gave a slight smile. "It was another world. Who'd you work for."

  "Taylor and Walsh."

  The figure standing behind their interrogator bent down to look through the window, revealing a woman's face as she pulled down her scarf. "In New York?"

  "Yeah," Solly said. "I was a project manager in the app team."

  This entire conversation was weirding him out—it felt like a job interview. He kept a firm grip on his revolver as the two guards stood up and conferred for a moment.

  The bearded man reappeared at the window. "You can take the Hangersley's place—next on the left, if you want. It's been cleaned out and the generator's got some juice, so you can freshen up. Or you can pass through, though I doubt you'll find anything better." He looked from one to the other of them. "I'll leave you to talk it over. These are suspicious times; we're prepared to take a chance on you, but I appreciate you might not want to reciprocate."

  Solly wound the window up and watched the two of them retreat to the sidewalk where they stood talking.

  "What do you think?"

  "We should move on, find a place away from anyone," Ross said immediately.

  Solly turned to Janice. "What about you?"

  Janice shrugged as she kept her eyes on the guards. "I don't know. I've already been fooled once," she said, shuddering at the memory, "so I'm going to leave it to you. How likely are we to find somewhere better?"

  "It's impossible to say. There could be some houses just like this a half mile on, but we wouldn't know which were occupied, living or dead. At least with these people, we're going in with our eyes wide open."

  Solly got out of the car and joined the two guards on the sidewalk. The female guard left them to walk up the drive of the house her comrade had indicated.

  "Look, don't take offense, but we've had enough happen to make us wary when folk offer us what looks like the hand of friendship."

  "I understand," the bearded man said. "The name's Neil, by the way, Neil Buchanan."

  "Solly Masters."

  "Why don't you go on up there and take a look. Feel free to take your weapons with you. Honestly, Solly, there's enough of us to take everything you've got if we wanted. But you don't have anything we need. Maybe you should have a little faith. The Hangersley's is yours for the night, if you want it. Now, we'll leave you to make up your minds. Good fortune to you whatever you choose."

  Buchanan offered his hand and Solly took it. He had none of the reservations he'd felt when he'd met the so-called Pastor Fisher, but they'd taken a while to kick in. It was now dark, and the house Buchanan had indicated had just lit up, offering the prospect of light, warmth and a hot meal.

  He got back into the car. "I think we should trust them," he said.

  Ross mumbled something about never being listened to, but it was a pretty half-hearted protest. He'd seen the lights.

  The house was immaculate. They were met at the door by the female guard, who introduced herself as Amanda.

  "As you can see, I've started up the generator. Feel free to light the fire when you're ready. I'm sure you'll understand that we have to ration fuel, so you only get an hour's electricity. You might consider using that time to shower." Her nose crinkled and Solly stepped back a little.

  That shower was a luxury such as Solly had never imagined he might experience, and he felt the black fog lifting a little as he dried himself on a warm towel afterwards. He was looking forward to a clean shave in the morning, hot water or not.

  Despite this hospitality, they agreed to take shifts on guard duty overnight, with Solly on second watch. When it came to it, however, he couldn't bring himself to wake Ross up for his turn. The boy looked so peaceful as he slept. So, Solly went back into the living room, sat on the couch and, within minutes, fell asleep.

  He was woken, panic stricken, the following morning, by someone banging on the door.

  "Who is it?" he called as Ross and Janice emerged from upstairs.

  "It's Neil, Neil Buchanan. I've come to say that we have breakfast at 7:30 a.m., and you're all welcome to join us. Just follow the smell!"

  Solly looked at his watch. That gave them fifteen minutes. He opened the door a crack, keeping the revolver hidden. Neil stood there in a fur-lined jacket, breathing mist into the cold morning air. Solly decided that either his instincts were completely failing him, or there really was a gift horse on the doorstep.

  "Thanks, Neil, we'll be right over."

  They followed a stream of people into the largest house in the community. A dozen or so people sat around the table, but it was the aroma of cooking bacon that assaulted
Solly's senses first and he wasted no time in finding a seat and tucking in.

  It turned out that all Neil's immediate family had survived. "It was a miracle," said his wife who was a pretty thirty-something called Beth-Anne. "Though we still lost our parents and many other friends and family. I'm so thankful." She put her hands together and looked at the ceiling as if saying a silent prayer.

  "You seem to have organized yourselves well," Solly said. "And we really, truly, appreciate your hospitality."

  Neil smiled. "As Beth-Anne said, we've been terribly lucky. We had a good community here, and we all pulled together as soon as the scale of the disaster became obvious. As you experienced last night, we've set up security and only allow those we trust to stay, for however short a time."

  "I can only say thank you. Is there anything I can do to repay you before we go?"

  "You can help us clear the blockage up on the road," Neil said. "That was on the list for this morning and it's your quickest way back on your route. Where are you headed, by the way?"

  Solly put down his fork and stood up. "Texas," he said. "That's where my family is—maybe I'll be as lucky as you."

  Neil gave them a new car with a full tank of gas. It was a Land Rover Discovery that had belonged to the family whose house they'd stayed the night in. He'd also insisted on filling the trunk with supplies, along with an extra fuel can that meant they could probably cover three hundred miles without having to refuel.

  "Just goes to show there are still good people in the world," Janice said as their waving friends receded in the rear window.

  Solly nodded as he gently put his foot on the gas pedal and felt the car respond. "Yep. Restores a little of my faith in humanity."

  "I almost regret not staying," Janice added.

  "I half expected them to ask us."

  "They did ask me," she said.

  Solly looked across at her in surprise. "Seriously?"

  "Yeah. Beth-Anne mentioned it."

  "They never said anything to me," Solly said. He couldn't explain it, but this news had taken the rose-colored tint from the experience.

  Janice shrugged. "She told me they knew you would be going to Texas, but I was welcome to stay."

  "What about me?" Ross said as he poked his head through the gap between the front seats.

  "Sorry, Ross, but she didn't mention you. I told her I would stick with both of you, anyway."

  Solly grunted. "Are you sure that was the right choice?"

  He could feel her smile on his cheek. "Of course. We're a team, aren't we?" She laid her hand on his leg and all the resentment faded.

  Within an hour, they were into the wall-to-wall countryside of New Jersey and traveling along roads that were largely clear of abandoned vehicles. Every now and again, they'd come across a truck blocking the road and, on one gruesome occasion, Solly was forced to climb up into the cab to move it. The corpse of the driver had been leaning against the door and so all Solly had to do was open it and let him fall out. Solly found a blanket in the cab that he put over the seat, but it made his skin crawl to think what he was sitting on.

  But, as they went further Southwest, these emergencies became rarer. There was also more evidence of survivors. Several times, they spotted smoke rising from the chimneys of farmhouses on either side of the road and, just after midday, they passed a group of people walking along the highway who turned at the sound of the engine. A man raised his arm as if to signal them to stop, but Solly put his foot down and they soon disappeared into the distance.

  It was a bright day in late Fall and the trees were decked in red, orange and yellow. Under other circumstances, it might have been a pleasant drive through an abundant landscape, but, as sunset approached, Solly began to search for somewhere to stop. They'd covered nearly two hundred miles in seven long hours and he was close to exhausted. For the first time, he regretted that Janice had never learned to drive.

  "We can't count on getting lucky again," he said, "so I want to be somewhere safe before it gets too dark."

  "How about there? Pine Wood Mobile Community," Janice said, reading the sign.

  Single story wooden houses lined both sides of the road and trees marked the border of the settlement. Pickups and vans sat outside many of them, but there was no sign of life. No welcoming committee here.

  He selected one of the houses that had no vehicle outside but, rather than parking in the asphalted bay in front, he drove over the short-cut grass and left it between the back of the building and the trees, out of sight from either passing traffic or anyone else in the settlement aside from direct neighbors.

  He pulled the Ruger out of the door pocket. "Stay here," he said as he headed for the rear window of the house. It was dark inside and there was no sign of movement. With any luck, the occupants hadn't been at home that night, but he'd know as soon as he opened the door.

  After a few minutes, he waved at them to come in. "We're going to have to do without light tonight," he said as Ross brought the flashlight in. "We have no idea which of these homes is still occupied and we don't want to attract any attention to ourselves."

  "Come on," Ross protested. "They'd have seen us going past in the car. Or heard us."

  Solly shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. This looks like a big place and I chose one of the first houses, so anyone further inside won't have heard a thing."

  "What about the bathroom?" Janice said, "It's only got a small window and we can cover that. We need to be able to cook something, don't we? I don't want to sit in the dark all night."

  Solly relented. The risk seemed small enough if they were careful, and he was keen to have something warm to eat as the temperature was dropping quickly.

  "And look, the water works!"

  Ross volunteered to take the first watch. Despite his protests, Solly didn't let him have one of the loaded weapons and his instructions were to come and wake them if he heard anything.

  Solly and Janice slept in the main bedroom and they lay full clothed under the blankets, each enjoying the simple pleasure of being near another human being.

  Suddenly, Solly woke up, flailing around in the darkness as he came out of a deep sleep.

  "Who's there?" he called. "Ross, is that you?"

  He felt Janice move in the bed next to him. "What's going on?"

  "Something woke me up. I thought I heard a noise."

  "Probably nothing," she said, sleepily.

  Solly rolled over, pulling the gun from beneath the pillow, and swung his legs out of the bed. It was pitch dark in the bedroom, so he felt his way one-handed toward where he remembered the door to be.

  As he stepped into the doorway, he felt a sudden rush of air and sensed movement behind him.

  His fist connected with something that gasped in pain and he was just going to reach down and grab it when he heard Ross cry out.

  "Solly, help m—"

  He ran down the little hallway and into the living room. He could sense a struggle going on where the sofa was, but had no target to aim at, so he went in with his arms and fists.

  One shape was on top of another and he pulled it back, flipped it over and sat on it. It was small, wiry and human. He could taste its breath on his tongue and it was snarling in rage as he tried to hold it down. "Stop or I'll shoot!" he said, pulling the gun out and pressing it against the head of his opponent who continued to fight back. "I said stop! I'll give you the count of three to comply."

  "One, two, thr—"

  "Solly! No!"

  Light burst into the room as Janice ran in, flashlight in hand. The beam jerked around as she moved and then settled on Solly, on the gun in his hand, and the head it was pressed against.

  "Don't shoot, Sol," Janice said. "They're children."

  Chapter 17

  Sheriff Paulina Ramos made a point of touring the Emergency Accommodation as part of her morning round. “The Ghetto,” as it had become known to its inhabitants, had been set up in the Aldays department store in the center of town. The top two
floors, a complex of former showrooms and offices, had been set aside for dormitories. The ground floor and basement were used for storing the supplies brought in from the grocery stores that were now outside the defensive ring.

  Arbroath was a city in three parts separated by the Chishkah River and one of its tributaries. The first settlers had built their town where the two watercourses separated in a Y shape. With hills to the north, that had left only one main approach to the town. Soon, however, the settlement had become hemmed in, and the Chishkah Bridge was built so it could spread onto the other bank. In the 1920s, another, much larger, bridge was built across the stem of the Y as Route 101 neared its northernmost limit.

  Geography, then, had been kind to the people of Arbroath because it meant that the city center was bordered on two sides by water. It had only two vehicular approaches—the Chishkah Bridge and the westward highway along the river bank, though travelers on foot could come over the cliffs it nestled beneath and attack from above.

  The department store itself had been built on the site of the original farm and was now surrounded by a McDonald's, a Starbucks and a movie theater, but it was the only place with the space to house the influx, and its owner, Custer Petrov, knew it.

  Paulie was in the nursery when he caught up with her. She didn't notice him at first, she was too caught up in the cacophony created by a couple dozen very young children and the toddlers who ran in and out of these rooms. She loved this end of the building, where the children were kept. For a few moments every day, she could pretend that everything was all right. The sheer life energy of these children seemed to nourish her soul, though they reminded her of Luna.

  "Sheriff," Petrov said, tapping her gently on the shoulder.

  He must have felt her sag before she turned. "I'm sorry to disturb," he said, "but we must discuss security."

  "What's the problem, Custer?" The color seemed to fade from the world as she regarded the man. Short, thin and gray, he was entirely bald and had a face that looked as though someone had tied elastic to the insides of both cheeks and pulled. Deputy Mike Fessel, departmental wisecracker, had suggested he looked like a particularly malnourished baby owl.